the happiness that attends disaster
by Seaouryou
Summary: StanCraig, TokenTweek, KyleKenny, PipDamien, CraigClyde, RedAnnie, MoleGregory, JimboNed, GaryStan, ButtersDougie, StanToken, TweekCraig, ChoksondikMackey, LexusButters, StuartGerald, WendyBebe... and many more. 28 drabbles in all.
1. i

Part 1 of 4.

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**stan/craig**

The Monday afterwards:

You are passing by the football field with Kyle and mourning your prematurely dead football career (killed by asthma and an embarrassing father/coach entanglement that you will try with all your power to suppress) when He (whose name you've stricken from your vocabulary ever since the party and the keg and the bed upstairs) throws a wide pass which lands by the chain link fence. "EY, faggot!" He shouts, and waves. "Throw it back!"

You pick it up and, like the quarterback you've always wanted to be (damn your respiratory system and damn your father's neurosis), throw it straight into His crotch.

"Sorry!" you shout back, while He doubles over and shouts obscenities, all while flipping you off. "I guess it's the limp wrists!"

--

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**token/tweek**

Token's parents are rich, and rich people go to nice places for vacation. Unfortunately, Tweek doesn't like nice places because they tend to be outside South Park, and he doesn't trust anything outside South Park (he just barely gets along with the stuff _inside_ South Park).

"Come on," Token wheedles. "I hear good things about Hawaii."

"LAVA! Burning, consuming liquid-death!"

"_Tweek_, we're going to Maui. No lava. Just nice, relaxing beaches."

"The ocean is full of things lurking in the shallows, waiting to strike! What if I step on a Irwin-Killer?"

"I think the scientific name is 'stingray'."

"To_keeen_."

"Ah, c'mon. If you get stung I'll carry you back to the hotel."

"What if you get attacked by a shark will you're rescuing me and it bites your leg off?!"

"Then I'll _hop_ back to the hotel."

"What if it takes both your legs and-"

"Tweek, I'll take you back to the hotel even if the shark eats everything but my thumb and I have to hitch a ride back."

This would be an irrational proposal to anyone but Tweek. He chews on the inside of his cheek and finally asks, "... can we stay in the hotel and just _look_ at the ocean?"

Token laughs, leans forward, and runs a hand through Tweek's hair fondly. "Yes, fine."

--

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**kyle/kenny**

It was a rarity, Kenny spending the night without the other two, and he was surprised to find he enjoyed himself more. They played video games, prank called the local eateries, and had broomstick fights (which entailed sitting on swivel chairs, pushing themselves around with the handles, and trying to whack each other in the face with the bristles) until 2 am, at which point Kenny rolled backwards down the stairs and, miraculously, didn't die.

It was while he was crouching over Kenny, asking if he were all right, that Kenny propped himself up on his elbows and kissed him. He sputtered, then blurted out that he really ought to get home. He made it to his car before he remembered he was at his house, and then he sat in his car and felt very stupid for a while.

Kenny knocked on the window. "Look," Kenny said when he rolled it down, "I'm sorry. I know you're not like that."

He was glad Kenny was so sure; he felt one of them ought to be.

--

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**kyle/stan**

"We need to stop coming to this restaurant," Kyle informed Stan.

"But it's my favorite."

"We've had this waiter before. When you've had the same waiter before, it's a sign to move on to a different Mexican restaurant."

"God gives you pretty specific signs, huh? Anyway, I don't remember him."

"How can you _not_ remember him?"

"Well excuse me if I don't remember every person that's ever taken my menu from me. They all just blend together into one unisex serving unit."

--

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**bebe/kenny/mole**

Kenny wasn't entirely sure what love was, but he had vague notions. As far as he knew (and movies and songs and greeting card companies suggested) scaling a fence with razor wire to climb into a detention camp to save your girlfriend (and your girlfriend's other boyfriend, who is sort of your boyfriend, too - if fooling around backstage while your mutual girlfriend auditioned for Romeo and Juliet entitled you for fagdom, that was) from the people Chris had been spying on didn't qualify as love, even when you had to outrun a dozen guard dogs.

But taking them home and plastering them with cartoon character band aids and then all three of you collapsing in an exhausted heap on your bed without even taking off your shoes first - maybe that did.

--

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**pip/damien**

Somewhere between his sister beating him up, and his classmates beating him up, and Estella beating him up, Pip became a masochist. One would think this would be prefect, now that he was dating the anti-christ.

Sadly, Damien had inherited his father's pussy gene.

"But I don't want to hurt you!"

"But I _want_ you to hurt me. C'mon, hit me. Don't be a wuss, Damien."

Damien got huffy. "I am not a wuss! I am just as big a badass as your ex-girlfriend. Maybe even bigger!"

"Estella broke the necks of twenty-five bunnies."

Damien gave him an aghast look. "Who could do that to _bunnies?_"

Pip grunted and climbed out of the bed. "Ugh, forget it."

"Where're going?" Damien asked, watching him anxiously.

"To get some tea." He said it sarcastically, but Damien's face lit up and he scrabbled after him.

"Can it be jasmine? And can we have finger sandwiches?"

--

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**craig/clyde**

"You need to help me dispose of the body."

"... what?"

Craig led Clyde outside to his car, where he pulled back the tarp covering the back of his truck.

"... you stole the Whistling Willy statue they have in front of the pizza place."

"I drove it through a couple carpool lanes, took some hilariously indecent pictures with it, scarred some little kids, and got a concerned mob to gather by posing it on the roof of the book depository and shouting that he was going to jump... And now I need to dump it before the police catch me."

"You _stole_ it by yourself; dump it by yourself."

"Aw, come on! This is what people in committed relationships do; they help their significant others destroy evidence! _Why do you fear commitment, Clyde?_"

"I'm going back inside to watch TV."


	2. ii

2 of 4.

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**cartman/clyde**

When the letter arrives in the mail - 10 YEAR HIGH SCHOOL REUNION RESERVE YOUR TICKET NOW - Clyde chucks his straight into the trash. Just some bullshit junk mail. He knows for a fact he can buy his ticket at the door. Craig really gets into it. I'm going to rent a tux and a limo and a hooker, he says. A _classy_ one. Just to show all those scholarship pricks they were wrong.

But, Clyde points out, they were 28 and living in South Park and working class. The scholarship pricks were right.

Craig flips Clyde off.

When the date rolls around, Clyde arrives on foot. He's one of the first there and chats up Kyle, who says he only came to catch up with Stan, and then he's getting the fuck back out of his po-dunk hometown, away from all the hicks that inhabit it. Oh. No offense.

Clyde excuses himself and meets up with Craig, who has the neither the suit nor the car - too expensive for the South Park working class, apparently - but does have a barely-legal girl on his arm.

Classy, Clyde says. Hey, Craig counters, at least I know _I'm_ getting laid tonight.

WOW!, the hooker says, a flat palm flying up, that's costing you extra, honey.

Clyde is distracted by CARTMAN, who barrels into the room in such a way that it ought to be noted in capslock. As everyone else edges away from HIM, Clyde edges toward HIM. Hey, Clyde says, and he doesn't have to ask what CARTMAN's been up to since graduation (where HE was forcibly dragged off stage halfway through HIS graduation speech) because HE starts bragging immediately. CEO of HIS own time travel company, and HE lost 200 pounds - yes! 200! - because HE got aides. But not, HE hastens to add, the fag kind.

I always expected you to go into politics, Clyde says, and CARTMAN jeers at him. Only dumbasses get into politics. They're all spineless pussies who can't even hold their dick in their hand without the voters' approval. Politicians have no power. Everyone that knows anything works in the business world. They're the people who make the money, and that's the money that pays for the elections of the politicians that'll make sure they keep on making money.

CARTMAN asks him what he does, and Clyde is confused until he realizes HE just wants to rub in how much better HIS job is. Pool maintenance, he admits, and CARTMAN laughs at him.

They end up in the bathroom shortly afterward. The tile's murder on Clyde's knees, and whatever mood that could've been achieved is efficiently dashed when CARTMAN yells through the locked door that if Butters has to go that badly then he can use the chick's room, which is the one he should be using, anyway, because he's such a God damn pussy.

--

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**red/annie**

Heidi and Bebe's popularity contest started early, over the simple matter of who could attract more girls to their slumber parties.

It was a close race from the beginning. Heidi had more expensive things in her house, but Bebe had less parental supervision. Heidi's parents were stupid enough to leave beer lying out; Bebe's parents were stupid enough to let BOYS come over.

The only girls who'd been left completely out of it were Annie and Red, neither of whom were considered worth competing over. Marginalized, they took to sleeping over at each other's house whenever the girls at school started to buzz about how drunk Lizzy'd gotten at Heidi's (again), or how Kenny'd joined the party over at Bebe's (again).

They'd watch movies and make huge bowls of popcorn and beat each other with pillows until they fell over in a stupid, shrieking, giggling pile on each others beds; then they'd calm down and slide their limbs around and Annie would reach other with a popcorn-buttery hand and grab hold of Red's shoulder, or wrist, or neck, or some other bare expanse of skin; and then they'd slide their limbs around move purposefully, and Red would be glad all over again that they'd been able to be the same in their difference.

--

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**mole/gregory**

Between Christophe being killed by guard dogs and his own move out of South Park, Gregory never expected to see Christophe again. He certainly didn't expect to meet him in a bar in Los Angeles playing poker. He also didn't expect to win all of Christophe's money, but he wasn't about to complain about that.

He thought about staying and asking how Christophe was, or more specifically, how he was alive, but Christophe was glaring at him over his beer and drumming his fingers on his deck of cards, and Gregory thought better of it. He chatted up a pretty girl until her girlfriend came out of the bathroom, bought a round for the bar with Christophe's money, then ducked out while the patrons cheered and tapped glasses together.

Four blocks away, Christophe stepped out of an alleyway with a gun. Gregory didn't wonder how he'd gotten there before him - Ze Mole had been the best, after all.

"I need zat money," he informed him.

"No market for mercenaries these days?" Gregory ventured. Christophe glared. "You're not going to _shoot_ me."

Christophe shot him.

When Gregory woke up again, he was in a hospital room and Christophe was standing over his bed.

"... you can't smoke in a hospital."

"Oh, _can't_ I?" He blew out a long train of smoke. Gregory let it go.

"I can't believe you _shot_ me."

"I needed zat money."

"But we have history."

"Why do you _zink_ I shot you?"

"_Amiable_ history."

"Why do you zink I only shot you in ze shoulder?"

"_Hmm_," Gregory said. "What are you doing here?"

"You're being discharged. And you're staying at my house."

"Am I?"

"I was ze one who paid your hospital beell."

"I thought you needed that money."

"I assume ze slave labor you weell provide weell average eet all out."

--

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**jimbo/ned**

Don't ask/don't tell was a fine policy when you had a boy back home, or when you were absolutely sure the other men in your platoon had _girls_ back home. Sadly, back home you were either in denial or you weren't in South Park. It wasn't that South Park was especially bigoted, just especially dim. Jimbo's mother, step-father, and half-brother had all walked in on him at various times in various incriminating positions, and they'd _still_ been surprised when he'd broken the news. In fact, Randy was still trying to set him up with Sharon's girl friends. Every time he reminded him he was gay, Randy said "_Still?_"

And that's why South Park's gay citizens were either in denial or in the process of moving. Because the blindingly stupid were more annoying than the prejudiced, when it came right down to it.

So Jimbo didn't have a boy back home, and he didn't know if Ned had anything back home aside from the promising singing career, and herein lay the problem: how were you supposed to have a relationship when you couldn't _ask_ if you were in a relationship, and, even if you did, they wouldn't be able to _tell_ you?

The whole situation was making Vietnam way too stressful. Not even the log ride was fun anymore. Jimbo didn't want to have to start getting into double entendres about guns. That would just be confusing.

--

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**gary/stan**

The date had gone miraculously well, considering what a prick he'd been when they were nine, and that a dozen or so of their classmates were following them around because there wasn't anything on TV and, well, how often did two high school boys go on a date together in this town? And in _that_ shirt? (Thank you, Bebe, for assuming he cared about your advice.)

After listening to catcalls, 'helpful suggestions,' and the occasional "fags" from Cartman all through dinner and the movie, Stan was rather desperate to get away from the throng of people that were following them. "So," he said, "you want to go back to my house for coffee?"

"I don't-"

"Drink coffee, right," he sighed.

"It's called innuendo! He wants to take you home and make sweet love to you _allll_ night long!" Scattered laughter and '_woooOOOoo_'s.

Gary arched an eyebrow. Stan pinched the bridge of his nose.

He was going to _kill_ that bastard Kenny.

--

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**butters/dougie**

Butters had thought long and hard about how to break the news to his parents that he and Dougie didn't play dress up when he came over anymore. (A more accurate description might be 'dress down.') He _wanted_ to tell them, because it wasn't good to lie to your parents, after all. He'd just been a little nervous about how they would take it. Undoubtedly he would be grounded, but for how long?

Butters hadn't wanted to break the news by way of his and Dougie's braces getting tangled and them needing a ride to the orthodontist to get straightened out, but, well, sometimes life just worked out like that.

--

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**cartman/wendy**

I'm Kyle Broflovski, and I hate my job.

Cartman is bad enough by himself - and working at a grocery store means seeing lots of Cartman (though you can never see a _little_ of him, Ha, Ha, Ha.) - but putting him with Wendy is like... well, like putting two chemicals that explode when they are put together, together. I really ought to study for my chemistry test next week.

The worst day of the week is Thursday. We always get our new shipment of Nabisco cookies on Friday, so Thursday means picked-over shelves. For some reason, this is the day both Cartman and Wendy show up for their Double Stuf Oreos. They ram each other with their carts. They pull hair, slap, and bite. Ever seen a particular fat guy try to fend off a particularly skinny girl who's beating him with a raw turkey leg? Let me tell ya, it's a mental image that sticks with you.

They always make a huge fucking mess, and I'm always the one who has to mop it up. And for what? It _always_ ends up the same way. Wendy gets the package, and then Wendy shyly invites the fatass to come over to her place and help her eat them. _Shyly_. Two minutes after clubbing him with a frozen fucking piece of poultry.

I need a job somewhere where neither of them would ever set foot. I have terrible blood pressure for a seventeen-year-old.


	3. iii

3 of 4.

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**stan/token**

Slam. Stomp, stomp. _Thud_.

"I hate Token."

"Mnm," Kyle says, gnawing on his pencil eraser. "What the fuck is a polynomial?"

"Are you listening?" It so happens that Kyle isn't. This isn't the first time Stan has stormed into Kyle's corner in the library to complain, and Kyle is trying to study algebra, a subject that utterly eludes him. "I _hate_ him. First he steals Wendy from me, then he steals the quarterback position from me..."

"Nmm."

"_Ooo,_" Stan says in a high-pitched imitation of Token, which is amusing if only because Token's voice is deeper than Stan's, "_I'm a preppy black asshole and I smell so good-_"

"What?"

"What?"

"What did you say?"

"Me? I didn't say anything."

"Mmn," Kyle says, though this time he gives Stan a scrutinizing look. Stan clears his throat.

"So algebra, huh? You know, Middle Easterns came up with that. One more reason to bomb them."

--

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**tweek/craig**

Craig fancied himself an intellectual, a scientist. In reality, he just liked to duct tape shit to other shit. So when Craig pledged to use all of his powers of reasoning to solve Tweek's gnome infestation, Tweek was worried.

_Very_ worried.

First Craig tried duct taping various things to a vacuum cleaner. Then he stayed up all night, sipping expresso and watching the gnomes dismantle his "inventions." Then one morning, about a week later, Craig burst into Tweek's bedroom. The dark circles under his eyes made him look even crazier than usual.

"Tweek!"

"... yes?" Tweek said cautiously, edging toward the window in case he needed to make a speedy escape.

"I've done it!"

"You figured out how to get rid of the gnomes?"

"No!" Craig struck a pose. "I'm not wearing underwear!"

Silence.

"... O... kay..."

"Don't you see?! The gnomes can't take your underwear if you don't wear any!"

"Why aren't _you_ wearing underwear?"

"What?"

"The gnomes don't take _your_ underwear, Craig."

"Oh," Craig said. Shrugged. "Well, it's comfortable."

--

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**choksondik/mackey**

The last day of Ms. Choksondik's life:

She tried to teach her students how to multiply fractions. This was difficult because that trouble maker Eric and his little friends kept snickering every time she took a sip of her coffee (which was unusually salty; maybe the coffee machine was broken? _Again?_)

She had a romantic encounter with Mr. Mackey on Principal Victoria's desk after-hours, then walked, bow-legged and humming, to her car. It was while getting her keys out of her purse that she was accosted by a man with an indiscernible accent who, after proclaiming he was Jacartha, The Greatest Killer The World Has Ever Known, sent by the Powers That Be in furtherance of The Plot, shot her three times.

--

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**lexus/butters**

Lexus grabbed Mercedes by the arm and dug her well-manicured claws into her shoulder. "WHAT do you think you're doing waiting on table 14?"

Mercedes managed to wince and pout at the same time. It was quite impressive. "_C'mon_ Lexi, you can't hog Stotch all the time! he gives 200 tips!"

"Butters is MY patron, Mercy." Lexus growled and dug until the pout disappeared. "GOT it?"

Mercedes nodded sullenly, and Butters, through the magic of selective hearing, grinned at the thought of Lexus getting jealous over him. He resolved to leave her an extra five.

--

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**stuart/gerald**

They celebrated Gerald's promotion by taking the newly-bequeathed store keys and breaking into the pizza parlor after closing. They made pizza with literally everything on it and sucked soda directly from the fountain. They hunkered down behind the counter so no one driving past would see them, and they toasted to Jerry The Manager and the new golden age that was undoubtedly to follow. One of flex time and generous lunch breaks and all the free pizza a fixed-income kid could scarf down.

"You aren't gonna turn into the Big Bad Bossman on me, are you?" Stuart had joked, and Gerald had laughed. Of course not. Best friends forever, through shoplifting and graffiti and that fat bitchy red head that tried to get you fired by claiming you grabbed her ass - you didn't really do that, did you?

Sometimes Stuart will leave the house or the bar and drive past the pizza parlor - actually, coffee shop, because Tweek bought the place years ago - and think back to that night. And he will wonder, not when they stopped being friends, but when he stopped hating him for it - started missing him, instead.

--

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**wendy/bebe**

"People used to think people were the only animals that could have sex facing each other, but then they found chimpanzees that do it too."

This would be less weird if Bebe didn't have photographic evidence. But she would be less Bebe if she were less weird, and if she were less Bebe I would like her... less. I should use "less" less.

"You're _thinking_ again," Bebe accuses. Then adds: "Some lions hump over 50 times a day. Sometimes with other males. With their _brothers_. Because, when more than one male leads a pride, they need to 'ensure loyalty' by 'strengthening the bonds.' By having sex. With each other."

I kiss her, and she pinwheels her arms and says "_Stooooop_," stretching out the 'o' until it sounds like she's having an orgasm. She does it on purpose. "I _just_ put on lip gloss!" She digs into the pocket of her t-i-g-h-t jeans and reapplies it. We've been doing this all day. _Gloss, gloss, kiss, Stoooop!_

"Dolphins," she says, covering her mouth with one hand and play-warding me off with the other, "can _rape!_" We're sitting on the side walk with our tennis shoes in the gutter, and passersby give us odd looks. Bebe drops her voice. "Orangutans make dildos out of wood and bark."

I press a kiss against her ear before hissing, "_You_ 'stoooop.' Talking about animal sex is so immature. Grow up."

"Grow up?" Bebe repeats. She smirks and tweaks a strand of my hair. "Barrie made up the name 'Wendy' when he wrote _Peter Pan_."

--

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**cartman/heidi**

"... so then you flip the paper over so that the folded sides are face down and fold the corners toward the center diagonally."

"Yes, yes..." Cartman said, rubbing his hands together. Heidi wrinkled her nose at him.

"Are you _salivating?_"

"Get on with it, bitch!"

Heidi glared. "Hey, you _asked_ me to teach you how to make these. You could at least be polite." She fished a pen out of her bag. "Then you write colors on the outside, numbers on the inside, and messages on these inside flaps here."

"Yes, yes! Now give it to me!" Cartman demanded, stretching his hand out impatiently. Heidi snatched the cootie catcher back.

"Pick a color."

"Bitch..."

"Do it."

"UGH. Red."

"Number."

"I am so for seriously..."

"_Number_."

"_Two_."

"Your fortune is that you're gay," Heidi says, sniggering.

"_WHAT?_ It's lying! I'll teach that fucking fortune teller-"

"So you're not, then?"

"NO!"

"So you'll go out for pizza with me."

"YES! Wait. ... Did you just trick me into a date?" Cartman demanded, glaring.

"Meet you at five," Heidi said, smirked, picked up her bag, and sashayed out of the room.


	4. iv

4 of 4. Finally.

**cartman/butters**

"Hey Butters, I need a test subject for—"

Cartman's voice broke off and Butters froze, one hand still raised to apply the mascara. He met Cartman's eyes in the reflection of his mother's vanity mirror with growing dread. To think, the most he'd been worried about was that his parents might come home from their anniversary dinner early and catch him. This was a hundred times—a million times worse. It was one thing to get dressed up like a girl because all of the guys in school unanimously voted you should be the one to do it and then _made_ you; it was quite another to do it when you thought no one was looking.

He should have remembered to always be on his guard for Cartman; that locked doors were not an obstacle when Cartman wanted in.

Butters braced himself for the teasing; for Cartman to run from the house and belt the news; for Cartman to whip out his camera phone and have a public revenge viewing with the video.

He wasn't prepared for Cartman to snort, shove him down onto the stool, and say, "You don't know a fucking thing about blending, do you?"

**craig/thomas**

Craig doesn't steal Thomas' underwear so much as borrow it. He rationalizes that this keeps him from being completely creepy.

Thomas never even realizes it's missing, since Craig's been doing his laundry for... Craig doesn't even know how long. Long enough that Thomas' mom has stopped acting like it is strange that a boy is coming into their house to do chores without pay.

It's not, Craig tells himself, that he's doing anything _weird_ with them. He hasn't started a collection or sold them on ebay or worse. He just wears them for an afternoon before he throws them in the wash.

It's not like he's masturbating with them or something. Wearing the boxers of the kid that can tell off Chris Hansen is... liberating. It gets Craig through what is so frequently an exasperating day in South Park.

And if it's weird, well... he's come to accept that's an inevitability in this town.

**ike/rebecca**

If nothing else, Ike learned from the fiasco with Ms. Stevenson that finding a good teacher is paramount. One that makes sex a matter of discovery, not dictation. And Ike knows just the woman for the job.

He tracks her down behind the tennis courts, gyrating against some fumbling loser from his brother's grade. He falters when he spots him, then snarls out a sharp, "Get the fuck out of here, Broflovski."

Rebecca, who continued on completely unperturbed by an audience, pauses here and glances over at him. "Broflovski?"

"Ike," he specifies.

She gives him a thoughtful, considering look, and then she smiles and resumes grinding against the now thoroughly flustered boy, calling over her shoulder, "Meet me here after school."

"She's going to eat you alive," Filmore tells him later when he recounts the story, shaking his head.

"God, I hope so."

**bridon/stan**

Most of the people in the grade above Bridon's were complete and unrepenting douchebags. They went above and beyond the call of regular douchebaggery, and everyone did their best to avoid them.

Stan was different. He looked out for people and he gave great advice, even if most people in this town were too stupid to hear it. Sometimes Bridon was just overcome with the urge to bask in his presence. He refrained refrained because he'd already tried that, years ago. After he finally stood up to his father and joined the basketball team, he'd tried hanging out with Stan. It had been a bit of a thrill, even if it meant that girl, Wendy Testaburger, was always around, too.

But after less than a week, Stan had cornered him while they were alone. Encroached on his personal space, and while Bridon's heart had been going crazy, he said, "I know what you're trying here, Bridon, and it's really not cool."

Stan was smart. Bridon wasn't sure how he'd recognized Bridon's more-than-hero-worship for what it was before even Bridon had, but he'd made it explicitly clear he wasn't interested. And Bridon wasn't stupid, so he stayed away.

**kyle/mark**

It's the goddamn ties.

Kyle's thought about it long and hard, this _thing_ with his first crush's twin brother that he balks at calling obsession, and that's what he keeps coming back to. Because Mark wouldn't tolerate being duct-taped to anything, not anymore, and now he's got the worldliness to know to fight off anyone if they tried to tie him done, instead of just standing there confused and letting it happen.

But he _still_ wears those goddamn ties whenever he's taking part in a spelling bee or the county-wide trimathlon, like a tantalizing possibility. If he could just tie his swinging fists down to a headboard...

It's the only reason he always beats Kyle when they compete against each other, but he can't exactly tell his parents that's why he's always so distracted.

**tammy/kenny**

Tammy knows just how long to let an illness incubate. Just how many years to leave the syphilis untreated to give herself a life-long high without letting it kill her.

She's a poor slut and she does a lot of drugs, but that doesn't mean she's stupid. All she's doing is intentionally brain-damaging herself so that her life will feel sunnier, funnier, and less South Parkian in general. Not stupid at all.

Maybe that's Kenny's problem, she muses, sprawled out on his lumpy mattress while he kneels on the rug between her legs and gives as good as he's gotten. He's never learned caution because he's never needed to, so he can just damn the consequences and go down on a girl _knowing_ it's going to kill him.

Tammy groans and gropes blindly; finds Kenny's hair and pulls him closer after a successful experimental technique, reevaluating who's the smarter one here. At least Kenny knew what he was getting into.

**craig/kenny**

Craig outed himself when Kenny died of rabies. He walked into Hells Pass Hospital and calmly informed the doctor that he needed shots.

"Where was the animal?" the doctor asked, preparing the large needles with relish. "Animal Control needs to be contacted."

"It was Kenny," Craig said.

"He bit you?"

"I got it from his _saliva_," Craig stressed, and when the doctor continued to look at him blankly, Craig flipped him off.

In retrospect, he should have waited until after the doctor gave him the painful shots to do that.

So now everybody knew. Craig continued on with the same amount of disinterest toward everything around him; it was just that now he had even more to be disinterested in.

Eventually, Kenny found him on the bleachers behind the school. He climbed up to join him, but Craig held him off from the reunion kiss.

"Why'd you out us if not for the PDA?" Kenny frowned.

"The vaccination takes three weeks," Craig informed him. "You'll reinfect yourself."

"Oh." Kenny swung his legs a little, then said, "You could have just told them I bit you."

"You do bite."

"Or that it was some animal up in the mountains."

Craig sighed. "Kenny, try to imagine what would happen if I told everyone there was a rabid animal up in the mountains."

"Umm." Kenny thought it over. "Town-wide panic, professional exterminators with hidden agendas, possible literally snowballing into a wacky misadventure?"

"Exactly," Craig said, leaning back. "Too much of a bother."

Kenny grinned a little. "Well. Happy to hear I'm the lesser of two inconveniences."


End file.
